It was the Orwellian year of 1984 and my life had suddenly come crashing down around me. There I was, sick and hung-over, sitting in the dark, alone, after the last American tour of the Clash.

The Clash, the legendary punk band of the 1970s, sadly limping along on the final tour. Mick Jones had already left the band. Joe Strummer desperately was trying to keep the dream alive. And me just a confused twenty-two year old trying to make sense of it all.